


The Horrors of Halloween

by GraySonOfGotham



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Bruce knows everything, Contests, Damian doesn't understand his family, Dick likes puns, Dick puns especially, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Gen, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Jason is mean in a good way, People stopped questioning Tim by now, costume contest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-18 19:37:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16125317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraySonOfGotham/pseuds/GraySonOfGotham
Summary: It was Jason's idea.They were going to have a Halloween costume contest. Just some friendly brotherly rivalry, nothing too big. The rules were simple: the winner is whoever can get the most shocked expression onto Bruce's usually impassive face.Of course, nothing is ever simple in that family.





	The Horrors of Halloween

It all started on an unusually hot September day.

“Ugh!” Damian groaned, flopping backwards on the lounge chair, throwing an arm over his eyes in disgust. “It’s too agonizingly hot to be outdoors, Grayson! I don’t see the point of dragging us all to the poolside when the Manor is perfectly air conditioned to a comfortable, and more _acceptable_ temperature!”

“Can’t take the heat, Little D?” Dick asked, not looking up from his fashion magazine.

“For once, I must agree with the brat,” Tim moaned, pressing his cheek against the pink pool noodle that kept him afloat in the pool. “Why can’t we just go inside?”

“Because Bruce specifically asked me to keep you guys out of the Manor today,” Dick explained calmly, flipping yet another page.

“Then why’d you invite me here?” Jason snapped, fanning his face furiously with the tray that ten minutes ago, held four glasses of cold lemonade. “I was halfway across town!”

“To make sure you _didn’t_ decide to pop in for a surprise visit,” Dick said. He finally looked up and set his magazine aside. “Besides, we don’t get to spend much quality time with each other anyway!” He smiled widely.

Damian scoffed. “I don’t need to spend time with you brainless fools. I am perfectly content speaking only to Father.”

Tim sniggered. “I don’t think your father would agree with you.”

Damian sat up, glaring at Tim. “And you think he’d rather spend more time with _you_?”

Tim just shrugged his bare shoulders casually.

“Hey, hey,” Dick said, sitting up and holding his hands up. “Bruce loves us all equally. No one’s better than anyone else.”

“Except me,” Jason said, puffing his chest out a bit. “I’m the rebel of the family, the _cool_ one.”

“As if, Todd,” Damian snarled. “And Grayson, you’re wrong. Father may not show it, but he _does_ have a favorite of us.”

A long silence fell over the group. One by one, every set of eyes turned to look at Dick. Dick’s eyes widened. “M-Me? You think Bruce likes me best?” he burst out laughing. “Oh, you guys just were there during the first two years after I left the mantle of Robin,” he said, wiping at fake tears. “There’s no way Bruce likes me best.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason challenged. “Now about a bet, then?”

Dick gave him an amused smile, deciding to humor them. “Oh?”

“A friendly wager,” Jason continued. “For instance… a contest. Halloween’s right around the corner, right? It’s about a month away, so we can all compete to see who has the best Halloween costume.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “And who decides what best is? You?”

Jason laughed lowly. “No. The old man’s reaction. Whoever puts together the most shocking, whatever that may be, costume, obviously is Bruce’s favorite.”

“How do you figure?” Damian asked, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head to the side the slightest. It was a sign that he was curious, but did not want to show it.

Jason smirked. “Well, whoever shocks him most, in his mind, is the most obedient one, right? After all, it would take quite a lot to shock someone like Bruce Wayne.”

“Hm…” Tim said slowly, thinking and looking for loopholes. “And we must make this costume by hand. Without help from anyone else. And no copying each other either!”

“Oh, c’mon,” Dick said. “You guys can’t be serious.”

Damian shrugged. “It would not hurt, I supposed. It will be a good exercise of your creative mind, Grayson. God knows you need that.”

“Tim? Jay? Really?” Dick asked, looking between them.

Tim shrugged and Jason wiggled his eyebrows, silently calling him a wuss. Dick sighed and clenched his jaw a bit. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

~

Dick thought long and hard about what would shock Bruce Wayne. As Jason said, it would take quite a lot to shock someone like Bruce.

Dick went through a list of possibilities: a fairy princess, the old Robin costume, Golem from Lord of the Rings, Shrek, an acro-Bat. But none of them seemed quite right. He wanted his costume to be funny, and at the same time, showing off his best assets.

He decided to take a few surveys.

Halfway through patrol on October 8th, he chimed out, “Hey, guys, what’s my greatest assets?”

“Your ass,” Jason immediately responded.

“Your loyalty,” Damian grunted, wind whistling through his comm as he swung from building to building.

“Yeah, I could use some of that loyalty right now,” Tim shouted at him from across the warehouse, where he was currently fighting off four thugs. Dick smiled down at him from his seat on the metal beams of the warehouse.

He walked over with ease, not at all worried about keeping his center of balance. He dropped down next to Tim, twisting a gun out of the hands of one of the thug’s hands. “Mind if I cut in here?” he asked, flashing the thug a charming smile. The thug let out a pain whimper and pulled his arm away. Then, he turned tail and ran. Dick called after him. “Hey! You forgot your gun, Cinderella!”

They quickly apprehended the other three thugs and had them tied up and waiting for the arrival of the police. Dick leaned against a stack of old crates and turned to Tim. “So, what’s my greatest asset?”

Tim snorted. “Your horrible comedic timing.”

Dick beamed. “Oh, you flirt. Love you too, Red.”

Dick had the perfect idea. It would be brilliant, absolutely brilliant.

He started gathering his materials, but first, he had a call to make.

“Yeah, hi, Alfred?” Dick said, clamping his phone between his shoulder and ear. He started typing furiously on his computer, ordering materials. “I need a new suit.”

“Did something happen to your current one?” Alfred asked.

“Hm, no, no, nothing happened to my current one. It’s for my Halloween project this year.” Dick laughed. “Please?”

“Very well,” Alfred said. “May I ask what this is for?”

“I can’t tell you what it is exactly since I’m competing against the others, so don’t tell them. And don’t mention it to Bruce, thanks, Alfred!”

He pressed the end call button a split second before he remembered something else. He quickly called Alfred back. “Ah, sorry, I forgot to give you the specifications. I don’t plan on going on patrol in it, so it doesn’t have to be the super special thingy, whatever it is. I just need it shiny, stretchy, and _orange_.”

“Orange,” Alfred repeated back.

“Yes, orange.” Dick smiled, biting his lip. He was aware of how strange it sounded. “Thanks, Alfred. Bye!”

“Good-night, Master Dick.”

Dick pressed the end call button yet again and flopped back on his couch, oddly satisfied. He could not wait for Halloween.

~

Jason totally forgot about the contest, even though it was his idea, until the week before Halloween. He got a call from Roy Harper, of all people.

“Jason!” came Roy’s voice when Jason answered his phone without looking at it. Jason quickly pulled his phone away and frowned at it. It was an unknown number, but not an unknown voice. “Dude, how have you been?”

Jason frowned harder. “ _Roy_?”

Roy laughed loudly. “D’you forget me already, man?”

“No…” Jason said slowly. “Are you drunk?”

“No!” Roy said. “I’m actually supposed to be at a party for someone’s birthday, but I snuck away. Anyway, I heard from Dickiebird that you guys had a bet going on?”

“A bet?” Jason mumbled, pushing himself into a sitting position, the pizza box falling to the ground. “What are you talking about?”

“He said you guys were having a Halloween costume contest to see who can shock the scowl off Bats’ face! He’s been talking nonstop about it recently.”

Jason groaned and rubbed his face. “Fuck, I totally forgot about that,” he groaned.

“You mean you haven’t given it _any_ thought?” Roy asked. “Well, you still have a week. I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

“We’ll see about that. I’ve been swamped with work.”

“Ooh, Outlaw stuff?” Roy asked, obviously perking up on the other side.

“None of your business stuff,” Jason countered.

“Aw, c’mon, bro,” Roy said. “You can tell me.”

“And have you blab off to who knows who, and it will eventually get back to Batman? No, thanks,” Jason said. “Are you sure you’re not drunk? We haven’t talked in a year.”

“I’m at work, Jay. I promise I’m not drunk. And I’ve _tried_ calling you like, half a thousand times. But you keep changing your number, and you’re damn hard to catch, and your new friends are scarily protective,” Roy complained. “I’m starting to feel betrayed.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “I didn’t _replace_ you with other people, if that’s what you’re thinking. We just run in different groups now. You’re with the Titans, Kori’s with the Bratlets, and I’m still here with the Outlaws.”

“But I’m still your best friend, right?” Roy said. “No one can replace me, right? No one at all? You’ll save this number into your contacts, and I’ll be the first person you call when something good or bad happens?”

Jason snorted. “Actually, that place goes to Dick, but if I ever want a drink, I’ll call you.”

“Hm, I can live with that,” Roy laughed. “Well, get going on your costume! I’m rooting for you because from what I’ve put together about Dick’s costume, his sucks.”

Jason laughed. “Okay, okay. Bye, Roy.”

“See ya, Jay!”

Jason lay back down and dropped his phone onto his chest. A Halloween costume good enough to stun Batman. That was a riddle Jason had yet to solve. Apart from his own death, not much has shocked the Dark Knight, and Jason believed that to be a great personal achievement.

At that moment, Jason received another phone call. It was from Tim this time.

“What.”

“Your presence is requested at the Manor,” came Damian’s voice instead.

“Why do you have Tim’s phone?” Jason asked instead of responding.

“Drake is otherwise occupied at the moment,” Damian growled. There were muffled protests in the background. “He… requires your assistance.”

“Me?” Jason asked tiredly. It was five AM. What could those brats be doing at five AM? “Ask the old man. Or Dick.”

“Grayson is with the Titans. Father is also occupied at the moment.”

“Alfred?”

“Retired for the night. Todd, it is five in the morning,” Damian snapped.

“Exactly, it’s five in the morning,” Jason said. “Why call me? Can’t you do something about it?”

Damian was silent for a few seconds. “I’m stuck too,” he finally admitted.

Jason could not help but burst out laughing. “What the hell could you two have been doing?”

“Grayson’s probably told you that Drake and I set up traps for each other around the house?” Damian said in a low, angry voice. “Drake got stuck in one of mine, and I took his phone.”

“And you got stuck in one of his traps?” Jason asked. “Damn, that’s rough, baby bat. But I can’t help you, sorry. Working on a project at the moment.”

Damian grunted. “That is not acceptable, Todd. Drake will probably suffocate soon.” Another short pause. “And I cannot feel my legs anymore.”

Jason sighed heavily, trying to make it seem like he is reluctant. However, he wanted to head to the Manor and see.

He hopped on his bike and roared off towards the Manor. Ten minutes later, he pried open a second story window and slipped into the house.

It was not too hard to find the two younger ones. Tim had been wrapped up in the heavy curtains in the library, covered head to tie on dusty maroon curtains. Damian hung upside down by the door, hanging by one leg, and his hands tied as well. A book lay on the floor under him, and Tim’s phone was clutched tightly in his hands. His face was bright red, probably from all the blood flowing to his head.

“Well, well, well, look what we’ve got here,” Jason said, leaning casually against a couch. “Two little birdies fell into their own traps?”

Muffled thrashing from Tim, and Damian cursed at him.

“Now, why don’t you tell me the whole story, baby bat,” Jason said with a smug smile on his face. “Then I’ll help you down.”

Damian growled at him, baring his teeth. Finally, he relented. “Drake claimed to have promiscuous photos of my mother,” he growled. “So I set up a trap for him to get a chance to steal his phone.”

“And did you get a chance to see if those photos were there?” Jason asked.

“He lied,” Damian admitted.

“Ah, so easily riled up, aren’t you? Alright, I’ll let you down,” Jason sighed. “Only because Dick will have my head if he hears that I didn’t bother helping you.”

Jason unknotted the ropes around Damian’s hands and let him take care of himself. He then walked over to where Tim hung, and frowned.

“What’s this?” he asked Damian.

The other boy dropped down ungracefully and glared at Jason. “A modified cylindrical common biaxial braid.”

Jason blinked at him a couple times. “You made a human-sized Chinese finger trap?”

Damian shrugged, tossing Tim’s phone onto the nearby couch. “Jon and I had the time.”

More strangled, muffled screaming from the roll suspended in the air. It sounded vaguely like, “You fucking gremlin, I’ll kill you for this.”

Jason slowly lowered Tim to the ground.

He sat down with a sigh and started working on unbraiding the curtains around Tim. He would have just cut it open, but he was pretty sure Alfred would not appreciate having to replace twenty foot curtains.

When Tim’s head finally popped out, he glared at Jason.

“What took you so long?” he snapped.

Jason rolled his eyes. He ignored Tim’s protests and finished undoing the rest of the braid. He set the mass of curtains aside and held out a hand for Tim to take. Tim gave him a distrustful look before taking it and letting Jason pull him to his feet.

“So why were you taunting the brat?” Jason asked.

“Do you know what he did today? He cleaned my _closet_. Now I can’t find anything in there!”

Jason snorted. “You’re so strange.”

“Me?” Tim scoffed, rolling his head around a couple times. “Speak for yourself.” He picked up his phone. “I’m going to go get that idiot back.”

Jason watched him stomp out, sighing again. The sun was peeking out from the top of horizon now, and Jason still did not have an idea for his costume.

He frowned.

Or… Jason slowly started smiling again, a smirk stretching across his face.

Perfect. He just needed a few things.

Jason pushed open one of the windows in the library, swinging his leg over as he pulled out his phone. He landed silently outside, and started walking to where he had parked his motorbike.

Jason grabbed his helmet and waited for the phone to be answered.

Finally, a voice crackled to life in his ear. “…Is this _Jason_?”

“Yes, it is,” Jason said. “Listen, I need a favor.”

An unhappy noise was made. “Why should I help you?”

“It’s completely harmless, I promise,” Jason said.

“That sounds completely untrustworthy,” came the cold reply. “I’m hanging up now. Don’t call me again.”

“Wait,” Jason said quickly. “I… Can you just tell me who makes your dresses?”

“ _Sorry?_ I don’t find this amusing. Good-bye.”

“I’m serious!” Jason said. He went kind of red. “I need a dress. For a costume”

“My dresses are specially made and fit for combat. They are not for fashion, and certainly not a _costume_.”

“Yes, I know, I know,” Jason said. “It’s just a dress.”

There was a long silence on the other side. Jason wondered if she hung up on him.

Finally, she responded. “Fine. My dresses are specially made at the League. Is this dress for you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

She snorted. “Whatever you’re planning, you’re going to look like a massive fool, Jason Todd. I’ll have one sent to you in a couple days’ time.”

Jason felt the tension drain from his body. “Great. Thanks, Talia.”

“Don’t call me again,” she snapped. Then the line went dead.

~

Tim already knew exactly who he was going to be for the contest. Tim prided himself of knowing Bruce Wayne the best, knowing what he likes, what he hates. Batman, no one knows, but Bruce Wayne was easy to read, for Tim at least.

He decided to go with the annoying approach. Bruce, and Batman, actually, are easily annoyed, though he tended not to show it much.

So Tim made a long list of things that seemed to annoy Bruce. He wrote down the names of most JL members, old flings, employees at Wayne Enterprises, the sound of crayons squeaking against paper, the tapping of long nails, the smacking of lip gloss stained lips, etc.

But none of them were fit for a Halloween costume. Tim flopped back onto his messy bed, pushing a couple matchless socks off his bed and picked up the comic book he had been reading the night before, while taking a break between working on a case and new plans for WE.

He flipped through a few pages listlessly, looking at the glossy pages, smoothing out a few creases.

Then, he spotted it. Of course! Tim knew _exactly_ what annoyed Batman most.

He laughed, quite evilly, if he can say so himself. Tim scrambled out of bed, in his boxers and one of Jason’s old t-shirts (there is not a Robin that did _not_ own one of Jason’s shirts. Even Stephanie had one). He dropped into the cave, bubbling with excitement.

Bruce glanced over at him, his face impassive under the mask.

“Tim,” Bruce said slowly. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“No, I got an idea,” Tim said, jogging around the cave, examining metal scraps, rejecting some, colleting the others into his arms.

Bruce was silent for a moment. “An idea…” he repeated slowly, watching Tim go around. “At two in the morning?”

“Yes,” Tim said seriously, grabbing a sheet of metal.

Bruce sighed heavily, shaking his head a bit. “And this could not waited? Until I’m done working, or until a less ungodly hour? Or maybe even for more suited attire?”

“You’re wearing a bat costume, Bruce,” Tim countered, sticking a screwdriver between his lips to hold it. “I don’ tink you’re allow’d to juge ‘y fashion sense.”

“I meant, a jacket or at least some pants?” Bruce deadpanned. “You’re underground, and the cold front blew in last week.”

Tim paused his gathering for a moment to blink over at Bruce. “Huh. Din’t tink of dat.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Bruce growled, turning back to his computer. “Just… keep it down.”

“Go’ i’!” Tim said around the screwdriver. “Tanks, B!”

He immediately set to work and did not come out of the cave until noon the next day.

~

Damian originally admitted it would be a good idea for the costume contest. But the next day, he regretted it.

He had no idea what he was going to do, nor did he know what to do even if he did have an idea. He was no good at designing _costumes_. So after brooding and moping for a couple of weeks, having no one he can exactly go to, Damian decided to ask his teammates.

First, he went through a list of who he should tell first. He watched them for a couple days, observing their styles of dress.

Starfire had an affiliation for bright purples, pinks, and oranges. She also tended to wear the least amount of clothing necessary.

Beast Boy enjoyed wearing the latest outrageous fashions. Metallic jackets, large sunglasses, neon plaid pants etc.

Raven enjoyed black. And dark, dark purple. But she was surprisingly good at makeup. In black, that is.

Kid Flash liked things that just screamed “normal, boring metropolitan teenager with nothing to do”. Graphic t-shirts, sweatshirt, old jeans, sneakers and a cap were Wally’s go-to style.

Aqualad was the opposite. Also rather surprisingly, his style was the cliché “surfer dude”, complete with bright Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops.

And Damian certainly cannot ask Jon. Jon, with his plaid, ripped jeans, thick-rimmed glasses. Jon _smelled_ like Kansas. And Damian knew this not because he went around smelling his teammates often, but he did have the luck of being trapped in small spaces or tied up with them. And unless he wanted to die, he would have to breathe the air in their vicinity, which usually smelled like them. And Jon smelled like the Kent farm.

Nevertheless, Damian was frustrated.

He decided that the girls were his best bet. They were also least likely to laugh at him.

Damian found them reading in the library of the tower. He walked in, shutting the door firmly behind him. Neither looked up.

Damian walked over and cleared his throat. “I… require your assistance,” he forced himself to say. He gritted his teeth together tightly.

Kori looked up first. “What is it, Damian? Has something happened?”

“I feel a lot of stress coming off of you,” Raven added. “Your aura’s more sour and usual.”

“So you’ve gone from seeing auras to tasting them too?” Damian snapped.

Raven just raised an eyebrow at him.

Damian quickly cleared his throat. “I…”

“You can tell us,” Kori prompted. “Are you having troubles with a girl?”

Damian’s head snapped up, a frown twisting onto his lips. “No! I have no time to entertain a female companion. I have _work_ to do.”

Kori laughed softly. “Well, none of your brothers are as diligent as you are.”

Damian’s eyebrows furrowed harder. He often tried to forget that Kori could have ended up as his sister-in-law. Or… whatever her relationship with Jason had been.

“I need a costume,” Damian said quickly.

“Doesn’t your father usually take care of that?” Raven asked.

“It’s… a different costume,” Damian muttered. “For Halloween.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Raven said. “What are you planning on being?” Thankfully, there was no judgement in her voice.

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Damian admitted. “I was hoping you could help me figure that out.”

Kori beamed. “Of course, Damian!” She stood up, walking over and putting her hands on his shoulders. Damian crossed his arms and glared up at her.

She patted his head, the nerve. “We’ll figure something out!”

They spent the next three hours going through the closets of ever team member, making Damian try on outfit after outfit, but they could not agree on anything.

“He should look _cute_ ,” Raven argued.

“There is nothing cute about a child assassin,” Kori countered. “He takes after his brothers, so we need to find something that brings out his manliness.”

“He’s fourteen, Kori!”

“I think he’s enough a man at fourteen than most boys at fourteen on this entire planet!”

Damian felt like he was back at the Manor, listening to an argument between Bruce and Dick. He flopped backwards onto Kori’s bed, looking up at the lavender ceiling, while they argued. They were talking about what brings out his best side. But that would be predictable. That would be what is expected of him.

“What if I dressed up as a girl?” he blurted out.

Both of them stopped arguing.

Raven spoke first. “A girl? Like- Like a schoolgirl type costume?”

Damian sat up, frowning. “Of course not. Something less… pornography centered.”

“If Damian were a girl,” Kori said. “He would take after his mother, I think. What is your mother like, Damian?”

Damian scoffed. “Depends on who you ask?”

“What do you think?”

“She’s manipulative,” Damian said simply. “Manipulative and she sees things in the wrong way, but she’s strong. Independent.”

Raven smiled. “Great! So we just need to find you a strong, independent, _cute_ girl to dress up as!”

~

Halloween finally came around, and Alfred had cooked a fancy dinner for everyone.

Dick had insisted on decorating the Manor, so there were pumpkins lining every hall, paper bats strung up on the ceilings, fake skeletons hanging in every room, and other miscellaneous decorations.

Bruce had work until six that night, which is earlier than usual, so Dick was buzzing with excitement. He smuggled his costume into his room earlier that day, and Tim had been hiding in the cave all day, refusing to let anyone in. Apparently his costume was down there somewhere.

Damian was still in San Francisco, but he should be arriving in the next hour. Jason promised to arrive soon as well.

Unable to keep his excitement back much longer, Dick grabbed his costume and changed. It was like his Nightwing suit, but completely orange. He even had a matching mask to go with it. On his chest were two large, black triangles, and across his stomach, a crooked smile.

Dick looked at himself in the mirror, turning a few times, inspecting how his suit caught the light, giving the illusion that his curves were curvier than usual, and his ass stuck out more than in the darkness.

He braided tiny little braids into his hair and stuck fake pumpkin leaves into them. Then, there was a voice in his doorway.

“What are you supposed to be?” Tim snorted, looking Dick up and down. “A Jack-O-Lantern?” Dick opened his mouth, smiling, but Tim cut him off. “Wait, ha ha, I get it, real clever,” Tim said dryly. “You’re a Dick-O-Lantern, aren’t you?”

Dick laughed. “I thought about it, but I decided it didn’t have the same ring as a Halloween Dick-oration.” He smiled smugly at his pun. “Where’s your costume, Timmy?”

“In the cave,” Tim said. “It’s still cooling.”

“Cooling?” Dick asked, making a face. “What, are you going to be a popsicle?”

“Haha, very funny,” Tim said with a roll of his eyes. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

Just then, Alfred’s voice floated up from downstairs. “Ah, Master Damian…” He cleared his throat. “You have arrived safely, I see.”

Dick gasped. “Dami’s here!” He pushed past Tim and ran towards the stairs. He vaulted over the banister and landed in front of Damian, who looked _nothing_ like Damian.

Dick hugged him tightly, pressing Damian’s face into the eyes of his jack-o-lantern. “I’ve missed you!” he said, squeezing the boy. “I haven’t seen you in three weeks, and you haven’t _called_ me in an entire week!”

“Grayson, unhand me, or I will hit you. You will smudge my makeup.”

Dick pushed Damian back and held him at arms’ length. He gasped. “Oh my god, your costume.” Dick let out a small scream. “Damian! You’re- What- Damian!”

 Damian rolled his eyes. “Stop exaggerating, Grayson. It’s not _that_ scandalous.”

“Your shorts are shorter than the shorts I wore when I was Robin!” Dick exclaimed. “And fishnet stockings?! Where the hell did you even get fishnet stockings? And a _choker_?!” Dick frowned. “I’m very disappointed in you, Da-”

“Holy shit, is he supposed to be _Harley Quinn_?” Tim interrupted, choking with laughter at the top of the stairs. “Oh my god, he looks murderous! Dickie, better get out of there before he puts that bat to use,” he chortled.

“I don’t see _your_ costume anywhere, Drake,” Damian said coolly, crossing his arms.

“Oh, he’s a popsicle. He’s freezing it down in the cave,” Dick said.

“I am _not_ a popsicle,” Tim hissed. He stomped down the stairs. “And Dick is right, by the way, you look like a prostitute.”

“I thought the point of this contest is supposed to be the costume that shocks Father the most. And judging by your reactions, I think I will win,” Damian said. He looked up at Dick again and frowned. “What are you supposed to be? Traffic Cone Man?”

Dick made a hurt noise. “No! I’m a Dick-oration!”

“That was terrible,” came Jason’s drawl from the base of the stairs.

The three of them turned to see Jason standing there, in a long, dark green dress. Well, it was not exactly a dress. It was a long green skirt with a very high slit up the side, showing off his scarred and muscular thighs when he walked. He also wore high heels. His entire midriff showed, and he wore a small green top, with the front of his top stuffed to give the illusion of breasts. The green sleeves of his shirt had holes cut at the shoulders and opened into wide bells. He twirled a sword expertly in his hand.

Damian screeched loudly and sprinted towards Jason, hands clenched tightly around his baseball bat. “TODD!”

“Woah, little brat,” Jason said calmly, pointing the very real, and very sharp sword at Damian. “Is that any way to greet your mother?”

Damian screamed again, and Dick had to reach out and pull Damian back. Damian thrashed. “Let me go, Grayson! I will rip out his heart!”

Jason rolled his eyes and glanced over at Tim, who stood there, eyes wide. “Where’s your costume, Timbo?”

“In the cave,” Tim said. “What the hell were you thinking, Jason? Dressing up as _Talia_? She’ll probably murder you too, assuming Damian doesn’t get there first.”

“Oh, I got her permission,” Jason said casually.

Damian started another screaming fit.

Alfred walked in. “What is going on in here?” he asked, a bit crossly. He was also wearing a costume. He was supposed to be a vampire, and anyone could easily see that.

Dick gave Alfred a weak smile, avoiding the end of the bat. “Hey, sorry about-” he grunted as Damian’s elbow poked him in the eye. “-this. I’ve got it-” Damian bit his finger. “-under control.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Master Bruce will be here in five minutes,” he said.

Tim gasped. “Oh, I need to go get my costume then!” He dashed off.

Jason swung his sword around another couple times. “Calm down, tater tot,” he said. “I didn’t choose this to get you your nerves.” He paused. “Not entirely, at least. B will be pretty ticked off as well, I’d think.” Then he frowned. “And _what_ are you wearing?” he asked. “I’ll make sure to tell the old man to go through your things. That is not something a fourteen year old should have.”

Damian stopped his thrashing and settled for gritting his teeth and growling at Jason. “It’s not _mine_ ,” he said. “My teammates found these.”

“From _where_?” Dick asked, sucking on a busted lip. “Harley’s closet?”

Damian shrugged.

“Wait, you sent your Teen Titans to go _shopping_ for you?” Jason asked. “That’s messed up.”

“I didn’t _send_ them,” Damian snapped. “Starfire and Raven _offered_.”

“ _Kori_ bought these?” Dick exclaimed. He paused. “Explains the fishnets, I guess. And the scandalously short shorts. But who did your makeup?”

“Raven,” Damian said. “And you _smeared_ it,” Damian hissed, elbowing Dick again.

Jason started laughing. “Who knew you’d be one to let girls play dress up with you.”

Damian started to growl another retort when they all heard Bruce’s car pull up in front of the Manor.

Dick gasped and let go of Damian. He stood and gave his lip one last lick, still tasting blood. “Where’s Tim? Bruce is back already!”

Just then, the front door opened and Bruce walked in, setting his suitcase down and started to take off his long coat.

“Happy Hallo-” Dick started to say, but the words died in his mouth as soon as Bruce’s coat came off.

He turned around and smiled at Dick. “Oh, hello,” he said. “Where’s Tim?”

None of them spoke, way too shocked by Bruce.

“Father!” Damian choked out. “Wh-What are you _wearing?”_

“Better question,” Jason said, sounding equally traumatized, “What is he _not_ wearing?”

Bruce look down at himself. “Oh, this is my Halloween costume,” he said calmly.

“A Speedo?” Dick whimpered. “You went to work in _that_?”

Bruce stared at him blankly. “Would you rather I went naked?”

“There’s hardly a difference,” Dick said weakly. “I can’t believe you- What did people say?”

“Not much,” Bruce said. “They were all staring too much.”

Suddenly, the doors to the foyer burst open and Tim came flying in, literally flying. But he stumbled and crashed in a heap of red metal when he saw Bruce. The Iron Man helmet lifted. “Why are you _naked_ , Bruce?!”

“I’m a swimsuit model. It’s my Halloween costume.” He smiled. “Creative, huh? I spent barely any time on it.” He looked at the stunned faces of his kids. “What?”

Damian acted first. He threw his bat onto the ground, cracking the tile. “I hate this game!” he shouted, turning on his heels. “I hate this game, and I hate this family!”

Bruce watched him stomp upstairs. “I’m going to have to talk to those friends of yours, by the way!” he called after him.

~

_That night, during the fantastic dinner Alfred cooked, everyone gathered around the long dining room table. Bruce had also invited over Clark, Lois, and Jon._

_Bruce insisted they all stayed in costume, to entertain the spirit of Halloween. Alfred stood by the door, next to Tim’s Iron Man suit, made completely of metal, with semi-functioning flying abilities. Dick gracefully accepted defeat, but he continuously snuck Bruce worried glances throughout dinner._

_Jason kept trying to get Bruce to notice his costume, but the only thing he received from him in regards to that was a casual comment of, “Let her know that I think you look better in that dress than she does.” Jason stormed out at dessert._

_(He also refused to speak to Bruce on patrol later, or anyone else for that matter.)_

_Tim was rather proud of his creation, though he did not win the contest either. He chatted excitedly with Clark throughout dinner about the design, and Bruce even made a couple offhand comments of how he could have improved it._

_Tim was a little with tick off about the fact that Bruce was not annoyed by the fact that Tim’s costume was of a playboy billionaire superhero with an ego that rivaled that of Bruce Wayne._

_Damian had thrown a black sweatshirt over his costume (Jason’s sweatshirt). It fell down mid-thigh, so all Jon saw when Damian came back down for dinner was a floating black sweatshirt, without hands, without a face. But it had legs, and black fishnet stockings._

_When the sweatshirt got closer, Jon saw the glittering murderous glare of his best friend. Jon gave him a weak smile and a small wave._

_Clark, dressed as Batman, leaned down and whispered, “Don’t look under the sweatshirt. He might try to kill you.”_

_At dinner, Jon sat across from Damian and he tried his best to keep from using his x-ray vision on him. But halfway through his homemade pumpkin pie, Jon took a tiny peek._

_He choked on the whipped cream and dropped his fork. Damian kicked him under the table, hard._

_After patrol that night, Alfred handed Bruce a mug of hot cocoa with marshmallows floating in them, just like he used to make for Bruce on Halloween._

_“Thanks, Alfred,” Bruce said, taking a sip. He smiled a little._

_“I must say, Master Bruce,” Alfred said. “That was a bit rude of you to intrude on their contest.”_

_Bruce laughed softly. “You’re always telling me to relax a bit and do something with my kids. Is this not what you meant? Besides, I think they’re all terrified of me again, which gives me a couple weeks of peace and quiet.”_

_“You are quite the evil mastermind, Master Bruce.”_

_“I suppose I can be. But all in the name of justice.”_

_“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Master Bruce. More cocoa?”_

_“If you insist, Alfred.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Happy October, everyone!
> 
> I can already say, I will be busy this month, but IT'S HOLIDAY SEASON, GUYS! I'm so excited. I have so many fics planned for the end of the year, I hope you guys all stick around to read them! I have two more stories for the spooky season. One will be another general, family-friendly (mostly friendly) one chapter fic. The other will probably be a few chapters, a tad longer, and I still don't know which pairing to do yet, so I will let you know soon.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed, and have a great start to the month of pumpkin flavored comfort foods! Leave a comment and tell me which costume you liked best! (I secretly love vampire butler Alfred, but it seems like a very Bruce Wayne thing to go to work in a Speedo.) 
> 
> Also, please go take this [survey](https://goo.gl/forms/2okwkuUvASVi1icm1)! It's for a giant end of 2018 crossover fic I'm going to start writing soon!
> 
> <3
> 
> My [Tumblr](https://lockedandlokied.tumblr.com/)


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